Go Get Laid!
by ForgetxRegret
Summary: Mark gets an interesting gift from Roger. More interesting than the rest...A collection of Mark's birthdays in his POV. MarkRoger.
1. A Condom At Hand

This is a fanfiction that I wrote in probably around fifteen minutes. It is a friendship fanfiction. No slash here, sorry.

It is also based on a real-life experience. Yes, I know. Real-life.

**Disclaimer** - I don't own the charries, I RENT!

It is extremely short, but I still love it. If you want something more serious, go read Elaborate Lives. If you like this one, then REVIEW! Please? -pouts-

* * *

Whenever my birthday came along, Roger always made certain that he would get me a present that I would never forget. Even during withdrawal... 

Who could forget about a beat-up Barney plushie and a pair of brand-new socks, with guitars stitched on the ankles? I sure haven't.

It was more like a goal of Roger's to buy me a better present each year. Last year, on my previous birthday, Roger had managed to get what was left of our family, including Benny, to pitch in a few bucks and get me a decent mattress to sleep on.

"Seriously, Mark," my best friend had said to me the year before this one. "You can't sleep on a freakin' beat-up mattress from the dumps forever."

All I would do was give him the same caring smile and a quick, "You really don't have to get me anything, Roger. I'll live."

Once I would add in the two words, "I'll live," Roger would suddenly start taunting me about how I hadn't gotten laid in years.

"You call not getting laid since Nanette Himelfarb 'living'?" he had asked, claiming that Maureen did not count, since she would get laid with the first man or woman that had eye contact with her.

It seemed like Roger was pestering me about not getting laid a lot more often. I mean, we always joke around like that, but not that constant. Whenever I wanted to listen to a song of his or something, he would always reply with, "Go get laid, Cohen."

So, you probably can't really blame me for being a little nervous with my next birthday present. I mean, first he gets me a brand new mattress. The only thing in Roger's mind that's better than sleep, is sex. There's a slight chance that I actually wouldn't be surprised if I found two strippers sitting on my bed.

Well, I got something close to it.

Typical Roger. Always "caring". Always "living".

On the morning of my birthday, I reach out to my milk-crate nightstand to get my glasses. Instead, I feel something else. Grabbing it, along with my glasses, I put them on my face, and instead of finding a blurry little wrapper in my hand, I see a condom, along with a note taped to it.

_"Happy birthday, Mark."_

A little, loopy smile is drawn beside the three words. I couldn't help but return the smile with my own.

_"Hopefully it'll be a happy one, now that you finally have a condom.  
Go get laid!  
Much love, lust, and lube,  
Roger."_


	2. Have Your Cake and Eat It, Too

Well, one year ago I had written the first chapter to this, thinking it would just be a oneshot. Now, I am already planning a third chapter. Don't worry. I won't take another year to write it. I believe my writing has changed within the past year, but I would hope it has changed for the better. I had written this chapter in school, so it isn't the greatest, but I am quite happy with how it turned out.

Still don't own Rent. Never will. I'll get over it.

Enjoy! Reviews much welcome.

* * *

Here came that time of the year again – My birthday. Damn. Why couldn't it just be on February 29th? Then I could just have a birthday every four years, every leap year. I just _had_ to be a Gemini. Maybe I have a twin somewhere who has actually gotten ass within the past two years. 

It wouldn't matter, anyway. Roger knows I still haven't gotten laid, that last year's gift was just collecting dust on the bottom of my underwear drawer. If it had been any other gift, I would normally feel guilty for showing whoever had given it to me that it hadn't been used, but this was different. Roger knew it would be put to no good use.

"You can't stay hung up on Maureen forever, Mark. What the hell are you waiting for?" Roger's voice echoed in my mind. "If I were you, I'd be sticking a gun to my head.

Of course, in the hopes of changing the subject and just being my worrisome-self, I would always yell at him for saying that last bit. Unfortunately, he'd just reply and end the conversation with, "Just get Goddamn laid already, Cohen."

A slight part of me wanted to just get it over with, but only because I was scared of what this year's gift would be. The other part of me, the more risque part, was strangely curious in finding out what this year would bring.

Curiosity killed the cat. Or, I should say, screwed the nerd.

-

I could feel light burning through my closed eyelids as the sun's rays shone through the open window. A slight summer breeze drifted in and ruffled the sheets against my nearly-bare body. Pulling my boxers up to my boney hips, I took a deep, staggering breath. Finally, gulping loudly, I blinked my pale blue eyes open and turned to my side.

Nervousness turned to fear.

A figure hovered over me, causing my heart to beat twice as fast as normal, causing my body to jolt slightly. It had taken a moment to realize that it was not an expected stripper, but my roommate. His muscular body indented my small, cardboard nightstand, the same one that had held that damn condom a year previously, as he sat on it for who knows how long, waiting for me to awake.

Fear turned to shock.

Although there was no _professional_ stripper on my "nightstand," Roger certainly was...well, _stripped_! In nothing but his skin, there he sat. In deep shock, I tumbled off of my bed, feet entangled in the sheets like a roped cattle.

Shock turned to humiliation.

Squirming out of the fabrics, a strong, red blush crept up my neck and to my cheeks. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

"What has to be done, has to be done," was all he said, followed by, "Last year's gift would come in handy for this year's..."

Stumbling up, still in deep shock, but exceptionally pleased, I rushed to my dresser and opened my underwear drawer, taking about two minutes to find the condom due to my shaking fingers and it being buried so deep among the mixture of socks and underclothes. This was what I had been waiting for. This was what I had waited all along to bring me (and my erection) back. All of those dreams and fantasies had finally paid off. This was _real_.

Finally, the old gift was found, but a pair of briefs fell out of the drawer in the process of snatching the protection. My face and neck only reddened more, but as I went to stuff them _far_ in the back of the dresser, a hand snatched my wrist, and another grabbed the briefs out of my hand.

"These'll come in handy," Roger growled, a smirk curving his lips which only made the hill in my boxers become a mountain. The briefs becoming stuffed into my mouth, I felt my body tackled and become one with the bed.

Humiliation turned to horniness.

It became the best birthday of my life.

* * *

Reviews are very much encouraged. I would absolutely love any feedback. Thank you to all who reviewed the first chapter. I hope you enjoy this one and future chapters just as much as the last. 

I would also like to thank my best friend, Nicole. A lot has happened in this past year, including gaining more than a best friend from her. She is now my girlfriend and I couldn't be happier. Thank you for everything.


	3. A Lot More Than Friends

Birthdays always come and go, just like weddings, Bar Mitzvahs, anniversaries. Birthdays include presents, but never contain the spirit and cheer of Christmas or Chanukah. They are just there to remind yourself that you are getting old.

This is the third birthday spent without Mimi, April, or any groupie girlfriends around. The first birthday, I just figured he was getting over Mimi. The one after that, well...Let's just say I found out why he had spent the past year without any girls. He had his eye on me all along. Why would Roger Davis have his eye on Mark Cohen, a little, Jewish, nerdy boy from Scarsdale? I was nothing compared to my rockstar, amazingly sexy boyfriend. Well, that is one thing that has changed within the past year - Roger became my boyfriend. After a birthday like last year's, what else could have happened? Roger would never have been a one-night stand to me. We have been best friends since the moment we first became roommates. If we weren't attracted to each other, that birthday would have never happened the way it did. There would have been cake, ice cream, and maybe the occasional gift card to Barnes and Noble, but nothing more.

No, Roger and I were meant to be a lot more than friends. And so, after my birthday last year, that was what we became - more than friends.

Last year was my best birthday. So what was there to look forward to? Blowing out candles and making a wish? Becoming a year older, which, in turn, would one year replace my famed Cap'n Crunch with Raisin Bran and Cheerios? Bor-ing.

So why just count down the time I had left in my life?

Well, the time left was the time left with Roger by my side. We had vowed to always be best friends, and although this birthday just happened to also be our one year anniversary, the moment we became more than friends, we did not want to become anything less.

Year one, Roger gave me a condom. Year two, he gave me his body, every bit of him. What was left?

Well, last year I had asked myself that same question: "What was left?" And, I certainly found out that there was a lot more left. I was proved to be wrong once, it could happen again and again and again.

And, so, it did happen again. Two years in a row, Roger was on a roll.

* * *

The moment the alarm clock (retrieved from a garbage can three years back) flashed 7 AM, a knock echoed from the door.

"So much for sleeping in on my own birthday," an annoyed voice grumbled in my groggy head. "Who the hell is here at seven in the morning? Probably Maureen, she's been more excited for my own birthday than I have been..."

I dragged my scrawny, pale body out of my birthday mattress from so many years ago and moped all the way over to the front door, eyes only halfway open. As I opened the front door, just barely hanging onto the hinges, my eyes suddenly widened all the way as they landed on a huge cake, bright blue, with "Happy birthday, Mark" written across it, but no candles. The candles would have looked minuscule compared to the insanely large pastry.

I poked my head out of the door and glanced on both sides of the hallway to find nobody there.

"Hello...?" Although I whispered the single word, it still echoed across the empty apartment building. I was somewhat thankful for the deserted building; I was only in a pair of light blue boxers, not even in a shirt. That was something Roger got me started with, going to bed in just boxers. It oddly gave a guy a sense of freedom, that's what he taught me.

Before I could figure out where to even begin with this gigantic cake sitting before me, the top broke off, making me nearly jump out of my boxers. I certainly jumped high and fast enough for me to have to tug up the elastic of the fabric before it fell below my waist.

What broke the top of the cake was a half-naked Roger Davis, my rockstar, amazingly sexy boyfriend. Well, it looked like he was half-naked, at least. The bottom of the cake covered his lower-half, while his smooth, bare chest became a magnet to my eyes. Quickly shaking my head, I looked back into Roger's eyes and gawked.

"Roger, what are you doing!?" I tried to yell and act stern, without actually yelling, in fear of angering the neighbors. Trying to ignore the satisfied smirk on his face, I grabbed his arm and attempted to yank him out of the over-sized cake. Of course, being too weak to lift a thing, I knew I would never be able to move him on my own, but he luckily saved me the embarrassment by moving his own body with my pulls, making it look as if I was moving him. I made a silent reminder to thank him - I always appreciated his little gestures the most.

The moment he stepped foot out of that giant (and cardboard, I quickly realized by the lack of a mess from icing) cake, realization dawned on me. He was not half-naked, as I had thought. He was _completely_ naked, from head to foot, except for one tiny, little detail...

"R-R-Roger...?" I stuttered.

"Hmm?" he replied nonchalantly.

"Why are you naked and why do you have on a ribbon that barely covers your-"

"Happy birthday, Mark."

* * *

To my girlfriend of two years and nearly nine months. This is your third birthday spent with us together, let's spend so many more birthdays together, just like Mark and Roger will. Happy birthday, baby.


End file.
